Varna
by Ke Roth
Summary: A mysterious assignment partners Picard with an old acquaintance. Written for the 2016 Strange New Worlds writing contest.
1. Chapter 1

Huge thanks to Beardy, my fellow fleetie, for the generous use of his toon, T'Beera Regal (and for the Club Orange!) You rock, sir.

Chapter 1

A transporter beam, shimmering and silent, cut through the darkness of the late night, its focal point the transport pad positioned on the boardwalk that reached out into the sea. After a moment, the beam coalesced into a single form - then faded back into the nothingness from which it had come.

Jean-Luc Picard, captain of the USS Enterprise, drew a deep breath - then felt a fine mist cover his face.

Rain, he realized, then frowned. It doesn't rain on Risa.

Of course it rained, he admonished himself. Covered with lush vegetation, towering trees and vivid flowers, regular rainfall would have been necessary for maintaining the verdant surroundings - but the planet's administrators would have carefully scheduled the showers to least interfere with the activities of the tourists who visited the world, limiting the downfalls to those times when vacationers were in their rooms, exhausted from their activities of the day – or preoccupied with their activities of the night.

By morning, every trace of the rain would have faded, absorbed into the ground, or evaporated from the sandy beaches, the shower having passed unnoticed and unnoted by the tourists.

As would the arrival of one more guest.

Jean-Luc shivered as a breeze, cool and damp, blew in from the ocean, and was glad for the trenchcoat he was wearing. It was the same one he had worn on his holodeck adventures as Dixon Hill, and given the circumstances in which he now found himself, seemingly appropriate. With a glance at the cloudy night sky, he pulled his collar up against the freshening wind, hunched his shoulders, and began to cross the boardwalk toward the entrance of the resort.

Judging from the size of the building, the resort must have entertained thousands of guests at a time, but on this night, it looked strangely deserted. The kiosks that dotted the walkway were empty now, silent ghosts outlined by the rain pattering off their roofs, powerboards and floaters locked away for the night, the vendors and entertainment coordinators catching a few hours of well-deserved sleep.

The entry hall showed a little more indication of the usual activity within. A display of wooden figurines – hor'ghans, according to the sign – had been left open to inspection, though no one stood on duty. Either its owner was a trusting soul, or, more likely, simply taking a short break from his duties, knowing that a late night sale was a rare event, but not so rare as to allow him to close the shop.

Jean-Luc entered the vast lobby, his footfalls echoing throughout the nearly empty room, drawing rote greetings from concierges who, after a quick assessment, dismissed him as just another vacationer returning to his room or aiming for a late night visit to the dabo tables.

Hearing the murmured words, the dabo girl looked up from her work, hoping for a new mark – but as he passed her by, her attention returned to the patrons who were studiously losing credits at the wheel while she monotonously recited well-practiced words of encouragement.

No more noteworthy than any other guest traipsing through the lobby at that hour, his passage was quickly forgotten as he made his way toward the arched doorways that led to the enclosed porch at the back of the resort.

Quiet and cool, the enclosure was a gathering place for groups heading out or returning from floater trips, hikes along the island paths, or adventures to the rope bridge that led to the island's vast cave system – but tonight, silent but for the faint staccato of the rain, it was deserted.

Almost deserted, he amended a moment later.

A lone figure – a Kesran, he decided, judging from her deep blue skin and long auburn hair – lounged on one of the large couches, gazing out through arches that led outside, watching the rain fall in private contemplation. At the sound of his steps, however, she turned, studying the intruder who had disturbed her reverie.

After several moments, she rose to her feet. Tall and lithe, she walked with the slow sway of her people, her every step seductive and enchanting, gliding toward him with unmistakable intent.

"You," she murmured as she reached him, her low voice almost a purr, "are looking for someone."

Picard stared at her for a moment, taken aback by the sultry voice and open sexuality of her tone. "Err...yes," he managed awkwardly.

"Perhaps," she continued, one finger, long and graceful, reaching toward him, the polished blue nail tracing a line on the collar of his coat, "you are looking... for me?" she tried, drawing close to him.

Uncomfortably close, he decided. Pulling back, he replied, "I'm afraid not," he said. "Please excuse me for disturbing you..."

He started to move away, but the finger brushing his coat snapped out, grabbing his collar, pulling him to her. "You did not disturb me... Jean-Luc," she added.

His eyes narrowed in surprise – then widened in recognition. "Commander Regal," he said quietly.

T'Beera Regal, late of the Imperial Romulan Navy, occasional liaison to the Federation, infrequent agent for Section 31, rumored operative for the Klingon Defense Force, and hired gun for anyone with the wherewithal to afford her talents - laughed softly.

"Jean-Luc, Jean-Luc, why are you always so formal?" she admonished him softly. "I'm Beardy... to my friends... and business partners."

"Business..." he began, then understanding dawned. "I see. You're my contact. You've changed," he added.

"All part of the cover," she explained. Smiling, she touched the small brooch that decorated the knot on her brightly colored sarong - and suddenly the Romulan he had met a few months before appeared before him.

Like most Romulans, she carried herself with a military bearing, straight and erect, her carefully cropped black hair a sharp contrast to the long auburn waves of the Kesran whose image she had worn– but unlike most Romulans, she bore a mischievous smile and twinkling eyes. "A personal holoemitter – a thank you gift from your Section 31 for services provided," she explained.

"Faster and easier than cosmetic surgery – and rather necessary. After all, no one would question a Kesran and a human having a rendezvous on Risa – but a human and a Romulan?" She' tsked' softly, shaking her head. "Tongues would wag – and we can't have that, now can we?" she asked.

"I wouldn't know," he replied.

T'Beera raised a brow. "Ah! Then Starfleet hasn't told you why you're here, have they? No," she decided for herself an instant later. "Of course they didn't. They just gave you your orders, and like a good little officer, you went on your way, no questions asked. You probably told your Commander Riker that you had a personal matter to address, gave him command – and here you are," she concluded.

He frowned at the accuracy of the remark, but said nothing, knowing that his protests would only serve to confirm her opinions.

"So sad," she continued. "I expected more from you. You had so much potential," she sighed, her finger still tracing lines on his collar. "And perhaps you still do – but that matter will have to wait a bit longer. Come: my ship's in orbit," she said, reaching for his hand, starting to lead him away, only to stop as he resisted her pull.

She looked at him disapprovingly. "Jean-Luc, we do need to leave," she insisted. "We don't have much time..."

"Commander Regal, I'm not going anywhere until I know what is going on," he retorted, his voice low so as not to draw attention, but his tone unmistakable.

"Jean-Luc, this is not the place..."

"Then make it the place," he countered.

She stared at him for a long moment, then moved close once more – though every hint of the languid Kesran glide was gone now, replaced by the stride of the experienced warrior that he knew she was. "First of all," she said firmly, "this goes no further. What I am going to tell you is one of the most closely guarded secrets in Starfleet and Imperial Romulan Navy. If it were ever to become widely known, it might destabilize both of our governments.

"Two years ago, one of your ships encountered a new lifeform which, within a year, managed to infect dozens of members of Starfleet and suborn your chain of command. They would have succeeded in taking over Starfleet but for you and your Commander Riker."

He gave a short nod, acknowledging the facts.

"What you don't know – what no one outside a few select people know – is that there was a simultaneous attack on the Imperial Romulan Navy. They, too, managed to defeat the parasites – but it was a far closer thing than they will admit," she added grimly.

"After an extensive debate in the Romulan Senate," she reminded him, "the Empire approached the Federation with a proposition to mount a joint effort to find the source of our common foe – and to either eliminate them or to find an agent to prevent infection," she explained.

"Both sides would provide experts and equipment, with the effort led by the foremost xeno-biologist in the quadrant."

Picard shook his head. "I still don't see..."

"Six days ago, the team failed to check in as scheduled," she said bluntly.

"Ah," he replied, understanding. "And now you need my assistance in planning a rescue mission."

Beardy shook her head. "Not planning. That's been done. No, Captain, you and I are to execute that plan. Me, because I know the mission details..."

"And I was selected because...?" he asked.

"Because Starfleet wanted one of their own on the mission – and if I had to have someone with me, I wanted it to be someone I could trust."

He frowned. While he had been honored to have been involved in the first peaceful contact with the Romulans in over seven decades, both sides had used that successful interaction to proclaim him their primary liaison – and then thrust him into a series of missions, both covert and overt, involving the Imperial Romulan Navy, Starfleet – and Commander T'Beera Regal.

His concerns, however, had nothing to do with his Romulan counterpart: despite a rough start, he had come to admire her intelligence and wisdom, technical knowledge, political insight, calm demeanor, and, he had to admit, even her occasionally scathing wit. Certainly there was no questioning her military and martial abilities: he had seen her take on opponents twice her size, defeating them with both weapons and bare hands.

If he had to go on a covert operation, he could think of no finer companion than T'Beera Regal – but even so, he found the idea of clandestine missions – even ones that were as seemingly innocent as this one - troubling.

As if reading his thoughts, she smiled. "No ulterior motives this time, Jean-Luc; this is just a rescue mission," she assured him.

"Then why not take a MACO team - or someone from Section 31?" he pressed.

She pouted, feigning hurt feelings. "You wound me, Jean-Luc – and here I was, thinking we made such a fine pair."

He met her eyes, refusing to yield.

Beardy laughed at his expression. "Oh, you do know me – as I know you," she said, then sobered. "I know you will keep your mouth shut, Jean-Luc, regardless of what happens. But there is another reason I asked for you: it's possible the researchers have had to abandon their lab. If that is the case, I wanted someone who knew the team leader: what she would think, how she would act under duress, where she would go - and not a mass of soldiers blundering about."

"My 'personal knowledge'?" He shook his head, frowning. "Commander, this is the first I have heard of this project; I have no idea who's in charge, let alone know anything her," he protested.

She shook her head, bemused. "Actually, you do, Jean-Luc," she said quietly.

"The team leader is Beverly Crusher."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Minutes later – after a surreptitious transport to her ship, a warp-capable shuttle, parked in orbit and cloaked against the scanners of Risa's traffic control system - he was still mentally shaking his head at the revelation.

"Beverly? No. It's not possible," he insisted. "She's the head of Starfleet Medical. She left the Enterprise almost a year ago to take the position."

"I know that's what you were told," Beardy countered, "but that's not what happened."

"But..."

"It was a ruse, Jean-Luc, carefully designed to protect both of our governments," she explained. "Everyone knows where all the researchers are – except they aren't." She shook her head. "Didn't you ever wonder why Dr. Crusher left your ship so abruptly?"

Jean-Luc hesitated at the question.

Of course he had wondered. Admittedly, his relationship with Beverly had been... strained... when she first appeared on the Enterprise, with his bluntly questioning whether she could work with the man who was responsible for her husband's death, and treating Wesley as though he were an annoyance rather than the brilliant young man he was...

But they had begun to find a way to work together – even to build a new friendship.

And then she had been called to San Francisco for an emergency meeting, returning to the ship only long enough to tell him she had accepted the position as head of Starfleet Medical, pack her belongings, and arrange for Wesley to join her later.

He had been hurt, he admitted, but he had quickly told himself it was best for her.

And for him.

But this?

"No," he insisted. "Wesley – her son - spoke with her just a few weeks ago..."

"She did," Beardy agreed. "Every member of the team maintains regular contact with family and friends. It helps them maintain their emotional health – but also because it helps maintain their cover stories. What she said, however, was carefully phrased. Nothing specific, nothing that hinted at what she was really doing..."

"No," Picard insisted. "Beverly would never have agreed to deceive her own son!"

Beardy gave him a caustic glare. "Of course she would, Jean-Luc - if it was to protect him, to protect the Federation," she replied "They all would. They all did.

"And given what's at stake, I think you would have, too," she added.

"But I could be wrong," Beardy continued. "If I am, tell me – and I'll transport you back to Risa."

"And you?"

She laughed. "Me? I don't have a choice! I'm a freelancer, Jean-Luc; I get paid only when I work. But the importance of this mission transcends money. I'm a Romulan first, a freelancer second – and those bugs came closer to conquering us than I want to admit: I'm not going to give them another chance. Are you?"

She turned, taking her place in the pilot's chair, her fingers running over the console.

He frowned, rapidly thinking over what she had said – and what she hadn't.

Starfleet and the Romulans had both defeated the parasites, he thought – and yet they both still thought them to be a great enough threat to send Beverly and a team of researchers out to study them, find a cure...

...or eradicate them.

No, he decided; not that. Beverly would never have agreed to be a participant in genocide.

But neither would she have agreed to a suicide mission, he reminded himself. Wherever she had gone, Beverly Crusher had done so with the intent of saving millions of lives – and then returning to her son.

Wesley, he reminded himself. Wesley had already lost his father – a noble man, lost on a noble cause; he was not about to let him lose his mother as well.

Not if he could prevent it.

He moved to the front of the shuttle, taking the co-pilot's chair. "Coordinates?"

"Course is already laid in," she said.

He frowned disapprovingly. "You're damned sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"Not always," she admitted. "But I was damned sure about you."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Just breathe normally," Beardy said as she exited the shuttle, her voice faint, resonating metallically as the exo-armor's communications system transmitted her voice to the speakers in his helmet. "Slowly and evenly, until the dehumidification processors adjust to the moisture level in your breath. Otherwise you'll fog up your visor."

He nodded, trying to calm his rapid breathing as he adjusted to wearing the gear. "I had forgotten how tight these suits are," he admitted.

It had been years – decades – since Jean-Luc had worn exo-armor, but nothing in his memory suggested the gear he had worn had been this constricting. He felt as though he was fighting for every breath – which, he reminded himself, he was.

"They've been modified for use in lower atmospheric pressure," she explained. "The compression helps keep your blood circulating, and it will lessen a bit once we're inside the planetoid – but breathing is still going to take effort. You're going to get tired quickly," she advised. "There are stims in the suit's medkit. Don't hesitate to use them; we can't afford to get tired."

Jean-Luc nodded, then, drawing a deep breath, stepped onto the dusty surface of the planetoid.

Beardy glanced at her scanner, then pointed toward a small mound of rocks. "Over there," she said – then moving with the half-stepping, half-jumping technique that had been used since humans first walked on Earth's moon, the two started toward the airlock hatch.

"Scanners won't work once we're inside," she reminded him as they reached the rocks she had indicated. "Kemocite in the rock masks the bio-signatures."

"Understood. How accurate is your map of the interior?" he asked.

"Accurate enough – unless the research team has been digging new tunnels by hand," she said with a chuckle.

Hunching over the access panel's control pad, he brushed a thin coating of dust from the access panel, then opened it to reveal the keypad. "The code?" he murmured.

He entered the numbers as she read them off, the thick material of his gloves making it difficult to press the buttons. As he entered the final digit, however, he was rewarded with a puff of escaping air that instantly turned into a shimmer of diamonds. Pulling the cover open, the two entered the lock, then Beardy resealed the door behind them.

"Lights on," he murmured, touching the control on his helmet, watching as she followed suit.

Two streams of light filled the small room, allowing Picard to enter a second code into the interior control pad. Air flooded in and the second door lock was released – but neither moved.

"Protocol review," she said sharply. "Unknown conditions. Weapons out and hot. Phasers at full power," she added as she drew her weapon from a holster on her suit and adjusted the controls. "Lower settings won't kill the parasites - or their victims," she added. "We shoot to kill."

He drew his own weapon, but shook his head at the command. "Commander, I have no intention of killing any of the researchers, even if they are infected – not unless it's absolutely unavoidable."

"Jean-Luc, the reports indicate no presence of a hive mother," she reminded him. "Without that sentient presence, the parasites are probably acting instinctively. Anyone they infect will likely be reduced to that same level – and there's no known way to remove the bugs, except by killing the hive mother. They won't be a person anymore; they'll be an insect. You'll be doing them no favors by letting them live that way."

"I refuse to believe that," he said resolutely. "There's no evidence to support that supposition – and even if it is true, the researchers may have found a way to remove the parasites or to treat the infection. If we do encounter anyone who's infected, we have to proceed on the basis that there is a chance to help them."

She frowned – then pulled her weapon back, tabbing the control. "All right; phasers on stun," she conceded disapprovingly, before drawing a padd from a pocket. "We'll start with the lab," she said, gesturing at the doorway. "Let's go."

He nodded, then followed her out the door and into the maze of tunnels.

"These walls have clearly been excavated by machine," he said as he studied walls they were passing. "The parasites didn't originate here."

"No," she agreed."We assumed this is a staging location, or maybe a colony of some sort, but it's not their home world. This place is, however, where your Commander Remmick – or rather the creature that inhabited him – sent a message just before you killed him. The Federation was able to track the signal, but as for what the message was, we may never know.

"However, given that this place was all but deserted when the first security team got here," she continued, "we can assume it was to alert them about the failure of the mission. Everything was gone except for a few parasites.

"It was those parasites that the research team came to study," she added.

"With what results?" he asked.

"Nothing significant – at least, not as of their last check in," she replied – then sighed.

"Commander?" he asked.

"I was just thinking that we'll get to the lab – and find out that it was something like an equipment failure – the comm unit broke, or the power supply failed, and we did all this for nothing. And then... then I think that maybe they've all been infected," she added grimly. "If they have, we may never find them. These tunnels run for kilometers."

"We'll find them," he assured her.

She glanced at him, grinning, then turned down the tunnel.

Carefully following the path on the map, they passed countless openings that branched off in all directions, their regular spacing clear evidence of the intentional excavation of the small world – but the faint crunching of something organic beneath their feet evidence of a more primitive form of life as well.

"Po'tha," Beardy commented.

"Pardon?" he asked.

"Po'tha," she repeated, reaching for a strand of the paper-like material that clung to the floor, walls and ceiling of the tunnel. "Flying bugs back on Romulus. They secrete material to build their nests. It looks something like this."

As she touched it, it crumbled into dust, the particles slowly fluttering to the floor of the tunnel.

"They've covered everything with this... stuff," she said, wiping off the dust on her armor. "Maybe it's some sort of insulation – it's cold in here - or maybe it facilitates climbing," she mused.

"Whatever the function, it appears nothing – human or insect - has been this way in some time."

She gave him a questioning glance, wondering what he had noticed.

He looked down, his helmet lights illuminating the ground where faded bootprints could just be seen beneath dust and the occasional trails of the parasites.

"Hmmm. At least we know they didn't make a run for the air lock," she murmured.

"There'd be no point to it, Commander," he replied. "Even with EV suits, they'd only be able to survive on the surface for a few hours unless there was a ship waiting."

"That's logical reasoning, Jean-Luc – but they may have panicked, and panic makes people do strange things," she countered.

"Beverly doesn't panic," he said, the hint of pride in his tone surprising her – and himself.

Beardy considered for a moment, then nodded."Perhaps not," she said after a moment. "At least we'll be able to follow our own tracks out if we lose the map," she said looking at the fresh footprints they were leaving behind. "Turn right at the next downward tunnel."

He nodded, following her as she led the way.

They walked in silence for a time, then Beardy spoke. "Jean-Luc, I wanted you for this mission because Starfleet's records showed Dr. Crusher was last assigned to your ship, so I assumed you knew her fairly well - but you speak as though she was more than just another officer," she said. "Were you two lovers?"

He started at the intimate question, unused to such casual familiarity – then shook his head. "No. Nothing like that. Beverly was married to my best friend, and we, in turn, became friends as well. We spent time together, shared leaves... I helped her move to their new apartment when Wesley was an infant, and Jack – her husband - was on an assignment..."

"And...?" she pressed.

"Then Jack died," he said quietly.

"Oh."

"We were on a mission... and I was his commanding officer," he continued. "Beverly never forgave me..."

"Ah."

They walked on, the silence only interrupted by Beardy's occasional calls to change directions as they reached certain intersections.

"You Starfleeters are an odd sort," she said at last.

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... you unquestioningly followed your orders to come on this mission, even without knowing anything about it – and Dr. Crusher did the same, following her orders to serve on the Enterprise with a man you say she hated," she said.

He was quiet for several moments, then murmured, "Actually, Beverly requested the assignment."

"Despite the fact you would be her commanding officer and she hadn't forgiven you for what happened to her husband?" Beardy asked skeptically.

He frowned. "Commander, being the CMO of the Enterprise is a prestigious position – and Beverly's qualifications were exceptional. Indeed, we were fortunate to have her aboard."

Beardy pursed her lips. "Even so, it must have been difficult for you two to have to work together," she insisted.

"A bit," he conceded, hastily adding, "at first. But we are both professionals..."

And, he added, we were friends.

Whatever else we were, we were friends.

And, he added, toward the end, it had started to become something... more.

Nothing romantic, of course – not with Jack's wife! - but there was... something... growing between them, he conceded.

She had become his oasis, the place he could find a moment of calm, his sounding board when he needed to hear a rational and intelligent argument to help him see all sides of an issue... and, he admitted, he was her refuge, her confidant, her devil's advocate.

He shook his head, trying to chase off the memories of how her abrupt departure had stung him. There had been no warning, no discussion about her being unhappy on the Enterprise... We were planning a dinner together on their return to Earth, he reminded himself - and then she was gone.

They had spoken only rarely after that – mostly to arrange the details of Wesley's stay on the Enterprise – but even that minimal contact quickly faded into nothingness.

"It's just ahead on the left," Beardy murmured, interrupting his thoughts.

Picard raised his head, glancing at the rock wall – but seeing nothing else.

"Low level hologram shielding the entrance," she explained.

"How secure is that projection?" Picard asked. "Could the parasites have gotten in somehow?"

"No. It was impenetrable except when opened by key code," she said firmly then hesitated. "Even so...let me go in first. Just in case."

In case...? In case Beverly had been infected and was now reduced to the level of one of the parasites, he realized.

"No. I'll go," he said quietly.

"Are you sure, Jean-Luc? If she was infected..."

"I'll go."

He checked the phaser's power level – then nodded to Beardy to enter the door's code.

As the image of the door faded, the interior lights came on, revealing...

Nothing.

"It's empty!" Beardy said in surprise as she stared at the barren space. "Everything – everyone! - is gone."

"They must have moved to a different location – and recently," he realized after a moment. "Otherwise they would have said something in their last communication."

"So where did they go?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe they left some indication of where they went. You check the living spaces; I'll check the kitchen."

She nodded, adding, "Turn off your helmet lights; it will save suit power."

He reached for the control then moved into the eating area, starting to holster his phaser as he did so.

Beardy's sharp call stopped him in mid-action; weapon drawn, he ran into the bedroom area, and stopped.

A body – a woman's body, judging from the outline – lay on one of the beds, covered by a thin blanket, a stasis field enveloping it in a faint blue glow. He started toward it, only to be stopped by Beardy's hand.

"Let me," she said, turning off the stasis field then reaching for the cover, hesitating for a moment before pulling it back.

Picard stared for a moment, then let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

It wasn't Beverly.

"k'Tara Darot," Beardy said quietly, identifying the white-haired woman. "Romulan expert in arthropods."

Picard reached for the woman's head, gently turning it to one side; brushing her hair aside, he spied the thin blue gill protruding from the base of her neck. "She was infected," he said.

"No sign of a phaser wound," Beardy said as she looked over the body."They didn't shoot her. If anything, it looks as though they were trying to treat her," she said, gesturing at several dark spots on her arms and neck. "Bruises from a hypo," she added softly. "But... why leave the body here?"

"Judging from the orderly appearance of the lab," Jean-Luc mused, "they had probably moved to the new location before this happened. They probably decided to use this as a morgue, to keep her remains until they could be transported home." He studied the unmoving figure a moment longer, unable to shake the thought that it could have been Beverly lying there – then gently pulled the blanket back over the woman's body.

Beardy turned the control on the stasis unit, watching the faint blue glow return, then left the room, Picard following her.

"All right," she said when they reached the main room. "They're gone - but where? And why?"

He considered for a long time, then extended a hand to her. "May I see the padd?"

She handed it to him, watching as he studied the map. "Well?" she pressed.

"Moving all their equipment and supplies would have been challenging; they wouldn't have done so unless there was a good reason. As you observed, however, there are few parasites in this section; knowing Beverly, she may have thought they needed to be where they could study them more closely..."

"And so you think she moved them closer to the bugs?" Beardy exclaimed. "Is she crazy?"

"I would have said she was dedicated," Picard corrected. "And, given that the others went with her, I would think that her dedication was not unique."

"And look what that dedication got them! Darot is dead..."

"It was a risk they must have felt worth taking, Commander," he reminded her quietly.

She frowned at him then sighed. "All right. They're all heroes," she said. "How do we find them?"

He shook his head. "There's nothing here to indicate where they went. But the failure to report might still have been due to something that happened when they moved the equipment..."

"Or maybe Darot wasn't the only one infected," Beardy said grimly.

He nodded, then turned his attention to the padd, pushing the thought from his mind. "This seems to be a central hub," he said, pointing at a cavernous area on the map. "Most of the tunnels radiate out from that point. Let's start there; with luck, we may find some trace of their movements."

"If not, we'll go tunnel by tunnel," she replied.

He nodded, gesturing her toward the door, letting her take the lead, then gave one last glance around the empty room before turning on the hologram once again.

The simulated rock wall replaced the opening, and as it appeared, the light from the room faded.

Faded – but the light didn't disappear completely.

For a moment, he thought he had left his helmet light on, then realized that the light was emanating from the walls and ceiling of the corridor in shimmering strands.

"The secretion's bioluminescent," Beardy murmured, tentatively touching the material. "And this is newer. It's not falling apart. The parasites must have been living in this corridor more recently."

Picard considered for a moment. "If that's true – and if the researchers did move into an area of greater concentration of the parasites - we should be able to find them simply by following the material," he said.

"You mean we'll find our brightest researchers where it is, quite literally, the brightest?" she asked.

A faint turn at the corner of his mouth appeared.

"Lovely," she muttered. "The first smile I see from you – and it's as we're about to enter the heart of the hive." She gave a heavy sigh. "Well, come on, Jean-Luc; let's go find them," she sighed.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Damn!" Beardy swore angrily.

Picard stopped, turning to watch as she shook her head violently. "Fogging up again?" he asked.

She nodded. "I'm sweating so much that there's water in my boots. I have to stop, Jean-Luc."

He sighed, then nodded.

Their idea – to follow the illuminated paths to the area of greatest concentration - had assumed that the parasites would be concentrated in one area. Instead, there had been dozens of pockets scattered throughout the caverns, each filled with thousands of the parasites – but no evidence of the presence of any of the researchers.

To their surprise and relief, however, the creatures seemed unimpressed by their passage through their homes, making no aggressive moves toward them. Quite the contrary, Picard thought as he watched the parasites: the insects darted out of their way as they approached, using the material on the walls and ceiling to hide themselves. Even so, they kept their armor and helmets on, unsure if – or when – the parasites' behavior might change, cautiously making their way from one cavern to the next, examining each and every corridor.

Protect them as it might, however, the skin tight body armor was also taking a toll of its own on the two; the suits had been calibrated for the ambient temperature of the planetoid interior – but the wherever the insects were gathered, the temperature rose markedly, overwhelming the suits' abilities to compensate. Sweating profusely and at the risk of overheating, they realized they had two options: cut short the first day's search – or vent the suits – and risk possible infection.

It had been a simple decision: after using their phasers to clear an area of insects, they had removed their helmets, venting the heat and moisture from their suits and extending the time they could continue their search – but it was a dangerous practice.

"We can't keep doing this," Picard announced. "We need to recalibrate the suits for the heat – and we can't do that here."

"I know. And we need to eat and sleep," she added. "This is the last break – and then we head back," she said, pulling out her phaser, aiming it at the tunnel ceiling, then looked at Jean-Luc. "Ready?"

He nodded.

The high pitched hum of weapons filled the area as they swept the beams over the area above, below and beside them, stunning the creatures around them into a temporary state of somnolence, and creating a small area of relative safety for themselves.

Beardy quickly unclamped her helmet and pulled it from her head. A gush of hot, moist air escaped into the room as she did so, revealing her exhausted face and sodden hair.

"Five minutes," he declared, knowing she needed more time – that they both needed more time – but acknowledging that every moment they were exposed put them in danger. Easing off his own helmet, he raised a hand to his bald scalp, grimacing as his muscles protested.

"Are you all right?" Beardy asked, running her gloved hands over her own wet hair.

"Just sore. I have to admit I haven't worked this hard in some time," he said, chagrined. "When this is over, I'm going to have to revise my exercise regime," he admitted.

Beardy grinned. "When this is over, Jean-Luc, you'll need a holiday, not a gym. I know this beach on Risa – just you and me and a week of sun and ocean..."

He gave a rueful smile then shook his head. "Would that it were so simple, Commander. Starfleet Command, however, frowns upon its officers going AWOL."

She shrugged. "Pah! Your superiors will owe you a holiday – and more! - when we find the researchers. Maybe you can even convince your Beverly to join you," she added with a smile.

Glancing down, she pushed aside enough of the papery material and unmoving bugs to clear a place for herself to sit.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I wasn't kidding about the water in my boots," she said, sitting down and unlatching one of the boots. Pulling it off, she upended the footgear, emptying the accumulated fluid onto the ground. Setting it down, she reached for the second boot, repeating the process.

"Don't leave them off too long," he advised. "The compression will cause your extremities to swell."

"This isn't my first time in exo-armor, Jean-Luc," she reminded him. She reached for the first boot, knocking over the second one in the process, then slid her foot in, grimacing as she secured the clamps. "Ugh. I hate wet boots," she grumbled – then glanced up at him. "You know... Wet boots and exo-armor aside, Jean-Luc, freelancing isn't bad way of life. I'm not a mercenary; I'm valued and appreciated by my people and yours. I can pick my employers and my work – and my vacations - and it can be damned exciting." She smiled at him. "You'd be good at it," she added – then rose to her feet, her second boot forgotten for the moment.

Moving close to him, she smiled. "And we'd make a good team. You'd provide the dour moral backbone, and I'd provide the unethical joie de vivre..."

He studied her for a moment – then shook his head. "Thank you – but I'm quite satisfied where I am."

She smiled. "You say that now – two years into sitting in the center seat of the flagship of the fleet. But things change. There may come a day when you want to be your own commanding officer , answering to no one – except me, of course."

"Of course," he agreed, then sobered. "For now, however, I'll stay where I am. Then again, if we don't find the researchers, I may be coming to you sooner rather than later."

"Which rather argues against my working for our success," she said lightly – then seeing his expression darken, raised a hand in silent conciliation. "I was joking. My people's safety is at risk, Jean-Luc – along with the more-than-considerable amount of latinum I stand to make. And I do want to find them – especially Dr. Crusher: after all, I can't have my future business partner being distracted by feelings of unrequited passion."

She turned, quickly spying her boot on the floor, and returned to it. Covering the area with a second round of phaser fire, she sat down and pulled on the boot, then her helmet – then looked at him and frowned. "Oooh," she murmured as she rose to her feet. "I hit a sore spot, didn't I?"

"Beverly and I were... friends," he countered. "Just friends," he added firmly.

"Of course you were," she sighed, shaking her head, rolling her eyes up in her head.

And then kept rolling them.

He stared at her, perplexed – then watched as her body suddenly stiffened, her limbs rigid, jerking as her body spasmed.

"Commander Regal!" he shouted, grabbing her as she began to fall to the ground. "T'Beera!"

For a split second, a swell of panic washed over him - then he pushed it back, his years of training taking its place. Lowering Beardy's convulsing body to the ground, he peered at suit's medical readout - and admitted he had no idea what he was looking at.

Had she taken too many of the stimulants? he wondered. Was it some sort of seizure?

Whatever it was, he knew only that he was out of his depth – and that she was in trouble.

He had to get her back to the shuttle – though the supplies they had there were little more than what their suits contained. But, he thought, I can get the shuttle back to Risa and the hospitals there.

With a quick glance at the map, he pulled on his helmet, then lifted Beardy over his shoulder, and began to jog down the tunnel, ignoring the ever growing numbers of parasites.

The jog was quickly reduced to a fast walk as he found himself slipping on the carapaces of insects beneath his feet – then to an even slower walk as the tunnel began to angle sharply upward.

Already exhausted by the hours in the suit, his muscles screaming in protest, he forced himself onward, moving as quickly as he dared, then felt Beardy give a massive shudder – and stop moving.

Horrified, he lay her down on the tunnel floor, pulling off her helmet.

He eyes, open and fixed, stared unseeing at the ceiling, thick white foam spilling from her mouth. Jerking off his own helmet, he brushed the foam from her lips, pressed his mouth to hers, and began exhaling his breath into her lungs.

The air, however, refused to enter.

Disgusted with his lack of expertise, he tried again, blowing harder.

A hand pulled him away.

"The suit is compressing her chest," a male voice said. Kneeling beside the body, he began to unfasten the exo-armor – then shouted down the corridor. "I found them! They're over here!"

A second figure, also suited in protective gear, quickly knelt beside Beardy's body, running a medical scanner over the unmoving figure as the first finished releasing the constricting gear. "Presence of larval neurotoxin..." said a feminine voice. "Did she take off her gloves? Boots? Both?"

"Helmet and boots," he replied.

She slid to the Romulan woman's feet, pulling off the footwear – then nodded as she saw a glaring red welt. "That's how it got her. The larvae love moisture. They got into her boot while it was off."

"We covered the area with phaser fire..." he began to protest.

"That will hold off the mature parasites for an hour or more, but the larvae aren't as susceptible. They recover in minutes: they can move quickly, and they're all but invisible in this light." She pulled a hypo from a pouch on her suit, made an adjustment, then pressed it to Beardy's bare foot. A moment later, a faint exhalation could be heard from the Romulan woman.

"She's breathing," the first responder said.

"Good," the woman replied. "Let's get her to base and begin treatment," she said to the others.

Two suited figures appeared carrying a makeshift stretcher; they lifted Beardy onto it, then began to carry her away.

The woman beside Picard turned to him. "We need to be going, too... Jean-Luc," she added softly.

Taken aback by the familiarity, he stared at the helmeted figure – then watched as Beverly Crusher removed her headgear.

"Beverly," he said, relief heavy in his voice. "Beverly."

"Jean-Luc," she replied, then smiled. "When we came around the bend, my first thought was that it was you – but then I realized that it was ridiculous: after all, what would Jean-Luc Picard be doing here?"

"I was supposed to be rescuing you," he informed her. "It rather appears, however, that you did the rescuing." He glanced worriedly at the figure on the stretcher. "Is she going to be all right?"

Beverly shook her head. "I don't know. Our research here has been extensive, and we have formulated experimental agents and vaccines for every stage of the parasites development – but our work has been in the theoretical, not the practical." She glanced anxiously at the ceiling. "Let's get out of here, Jean-Luc. We can talk when we get back to base."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

One of the researchers had given him dry clothes, while another had directed him to the sonic showers; an hour after arriving at the new research base, he found himself sitting in Beverly's cramped quarters, clean and dry, a welcome cup of hot tea in his hand.

"I'm sorry it's not Earl Grey," Beverly said, entering the room a few minutes later, her body armor replaced with generic coveralls, "but I wasn't expecting company, let alone you. Not that it isn't lovely to see you again – but honestly, Jean-Luc: a rescue mission?" she scoffed, shaking her head. "Why?"

"You missed your check-in," he said.

"Ah," she said softly. For a moment, she fell silent, retrieving a cup of tea for herself, then gestured for him to sit at the small work table that served as the room's main piece of furniture.

"How is Beardy doing?" he asked as she took a chair across from him.

Beverly smiled. "Beardy?" she asked, bemused.

"T'Beera Regal, former commander in the Imperial Romulan Navy – among her other... occupations," he said obliquely. "Known to her friends as Beardy – and no, I don't know how she got the nickname," he added.

"I see," Beverly replied. "Well, Beardy is responding well. The larvae can inject a potent neurotoxin when threatened – but it's a defensive mechanism. Unlike the mature creatures, however, the larvae do not invade the host, so there's no risk of invasion. One crawled into her boot and, when she put it on, stung her. Given some rest, Commander Regal should make a full recovery. I'd advise you to consider the same: sleep, food..."

"I will – but I need to make our report to Starfleet first," he interrupted.

"By all means. Let them know they sent you out here for nothing."

Jean-Luc shook his head. "Not 'nothing', Beverly. This is critical research – and you missed a scheduled communication time. When that happened, warning flags went up on Earth and Romulus, and we were sent to find the missing researchers... I didn't know you were one of them," he added quietly.

Beverly ignored the obvious accusation. "I'm sorry – but missing the communication time was unavoidable - and in any case, Starfleet overreacted."

"Beverly," he said, his voice growing stern, "those appointments serve as both information transfer times and a critical security check point..."

"No lectures, Jean-Luc," she admonished him, raising a hand to deflect his comment. "We all knew how important they were..."

"And yet you failed to check in," he reminded her.

"Yes, we did," she agreed, somewhat sharply. "We ignored the check-in. k'Tara was dying, Jean-Luc; we had to choose between trying to save her – and making a report. We chose k'Tara."

He drew a deep breath, then managed a soft, "Oh. I'm sorry, Beverly."

"Thank you," she replied. "I assume you found her body at first lab site?"

He nodded – then leaned forward, peering at her intently. "Beverly... how did it happen? It appeared that you'd addressed every potential route of infection – and yet..." he said gently, laying his hand over hers.

She glanced at the hand, then raised her eyes to him, shaking her head. "It wasn't like that, Jean-Luc; k'Tara wasn't infected here. She was on the original Romulan vessel that found the creatures – and she was the one who carried them to Romulus."

"But the breathing gill..." he began to point out.

Beverly nodded in comprehension. "For reasons we don't yet understand, the organism – they aren't technically parasites: they're more like a hive insect – didn't leave her body when the hive mother died – and the surgeons on Romulus couldn't remove it without causing permanent damage."

He frowned. "But couldn't that have put your mission at risk if you encountered a hive mother?"

"Unlikely," Beverly replied. "The creature was... inert, alive but not functioning. We didn't see it as an issue, and k'Tara insisted on participating. You see, not only had she carried the parasite to Romulus, but because the hive mother was able to relay her knowledge back to the masters, the invasion of Romulus almost succeeded."

"Masters?" he interrupted.

Momentarily distracted from her grief, Beverly nodded excitedly. "That's what we call them – the entities who coordinated all of this. Jean-Luc, we have learned so much since we arrived here! Not just about the insects and the hive mothers, but about the structure of their society," she added. "The insects are primitive creatures, incapable of planning an invasion," she explained. "Just from studying their anatomy we could see they couldn't possibly have built a place like this, let alone implement the technology needed for space travel.

"No; the insects were, for lack of a better word, usurped - by another species, maybe even another race! There's evidence of genetic manipulation from an outside source to repurpose them in order to make them capable in infecting a host," she said.

"The hive mothers acted as central processing units, relaying orders to the creatures – and through them, their hosts, as well as relaying the host's knowledge back to the masters," she explained.

"And this master species – whoever is controlling the insects - have you identified them yet?" Jean-Luc asked.

Beverly shook her head. "No. Examination of a surviving hive mother could tell us more, as well as allowing us to test the drugs we've developed to block communication between the infected host and the hive mother. If they work as well in practice as in our tests, we would disrupt the communication path – and maybe even force the parasite to leave the host..."

"Were you trying the drug on k'Tara?" he interrupted quietly. "We saw the bruises on her arms..."

She shook her head. "No. We couldn't test the drugs on her: she had a weak heart, the result of an infection she acquired earlier in her career as a researcher, and we couldn't risk it. That's what killed her: a massive heart attack on the day we were supposed to contact Starfleet. The bruises were from our attempts to save her, but..." She drew a deep breath and met his eyes. "We lost her, Jean-Luc. It wasn't until later than anyone thought about the check-in."

He tightened his hand over hers. "I am sorry for your loss, Beverly. I'm sure Beardy can make arrangements for the return of her body to Romulus..."

Beverly shook her head, stopping him in mid-sentence. "Thank you, but no. k'Tara was aware that she might die on this mission. She insisted that if that happened, we were to perform an autopsy and use her body in any way possible to defeat the parasite. She was determined to fight them, however she could." Beverly sighed softly. "And as gruesome as it may sound, Jean-Luc, we have made more progress in the last week than we had in the months before she died. She is the reason why your friend is going to recover.

"I don't think k'Tara is ready to return yet – not before her work – our work - is complete."

Jean-Luc nodded at her. "Which means you're staying?" he asked softly.

Beverly eyes widened in surprise. "Of course! Jean-Luc, this is the cutting edge of medical research! Not only will the work we're doing here help those who have been – or could be – infected by the insects, but our exploration into these creatures is like nothing else we've ever done before! Their physiology... we're just beginning to understand how they communicate with one another – if it's telepathy, it's like nothing we've seen before – and if it's something else... That's how we knew someone was here!" she added excitedly. "The creatures suddenly started acting differently than they ever had – and when we started to investigate, we found your footprints."

She shook her head, almost too overwhelmed at the potential before her. "Jean-Luc, It's so exciting, being here, being a part of something so important, so vital to medicine – to Starfleet, to the Romulans... maybe to more races, more people..."

Her voice trailed off, but the light in her eyes was unmistakable.

He saw that light – and felt a part of himself grow dark once again. "I thought that was why you transferred to the Enterprise," he finally managed.

Beverly drew a deep breath. "It was, but... Jean-Luc, practicing medicine on a starship is more than, well, just practicing medicine. It's working with her crew – and officers." She met his gaze. "My going to the Enterprise was a mistake."

He was silent for a long time, then spoke. "Because of me?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. And because of me. A ship's captain and the chief medical officer have to work more closely than any other two officers. I should have discussed it with you first, before applying, to see if you felt it would be possible for us to work together. My bullying my way into the posting without doing so was utter presumption on my part."

"It was hardly a matter of 'bullying'," he demurred. "You were undoubtedly the best candidate for the position... If anyone was in the wrong, it was me. I should have been more open to your being aboard... and I apologize that I wasn't." He fell silent for a moment. "I just felt that you and I, working together... I thought it might reopen old wounds. I didn't know if I could let go of the guilt I felt over Jack's death – and I didn't know if you could get past your resentment of me."

Beverly stared at him, then shook her head. "Jean-Luc," she said softly, "I never blamed you. You and Jack... you weren't just fellow officers, you were the best of friends. You wouldn't have sent him in harm's way, unless there was no other option – and even then... Even then," she added quietly, turning her hand so she could squeeze his, "I think you would have sacrificed yourself first."

He met her eyes, glistening in the flickering light of the overhead lamps – and nodded. "He had a wife and a son, a family that I should have protected, that I should have insisted that he protect... but he was, then and always, the most dedicated of officers. He knew what had to be done – and he went out and did it. I never gave that order, Beverly – and if I had known he was going out there..."

"You would have tried to stop him, until he explained that he was, after all, the best man for the job. And you would have to let him go, knowing that if anyone could save the ship, save the crew, it would be Jack," she said.

He nodded.

She patted his hand. "I know. I've always known. And that's why I could never resent you for what you had done – or that you came back and he didn't.

"But I never told you," she said. "I'm sorry," she added quietly.

"I never asked," he replied. "I... I was afraid to hear that you hated me – and the thought of losing you as well as Jack..."

"And so we said nothing – and drifted apart," she said.

They stared at one another for a long moment then Beverly forced a smiled to her face, patting his hand once again. "But all's well that ends well," she said. "I'm where I should be, at the cutting edge of medicine – and you're where you should be, captain of the Enterprise - and with a competent and capable CMO in Katherine Pulaski..."

His face hardened, his expression becoming unreadable – and Beverly laughed softly. "She's not to your liking?" she asked.

He drew a deep breath. "As you said, a ship's captain and her CMO work at a more intimate level than the other officers. It's an intimacy that I cannot find with her. I respect her knowledge and skills – but not her attitude or behavior... With respect, I think she – not you - is better suited to working with insects."

Beverly gaped at him, unused to hearing him speaking about a fellow officer in such blunt terms – then chuckled. "Well, when this mission is over and this cover story can be done away with, she'll probably have my position – as head of Starfleet Medical, that is," she replied. "I want to spend some time with Wesley. It's so hard being here and not being able to be honest with him about what I'm doing," she sighed. "I try to keep my conversations with him directed around his activities, his studies – his work on the Enterprise. Jean-Luc..." she began, her eyes filled with questions.

He smiled at her, understanding. "Wesley's becoming a fine young man, Beverly – and a good officer. You can be proud of him – and I know, that if he knew what you were doing, he would be proud of his mother as well.

"I know I am."

She studied him for a long moment then leaned forward, kissing his cheek gently. "Thank you, Jean-Luc."

"And Beverly?"

She looked at him.

"When you're ready – and if you want it - there will be a place for you on the Enterprise – and, I assure you, this time you will be welcomed."

She met his eyes – then forced a smile to her face. "What?" she said. "And give up all this?" she asked, opening her hands to the cramped room, then looked at him once again. "But... perhaps one day," she added softly, smiling.

"Come on," she said a moment later, reaching for his hand. "I'll take you to Beardy, show you where our comm unit is. Play your cards right, my dear captain, and I'll even give you the grand tour."

She guided him through the corridors, the two walking in comfortable silence, then Beverly gestured at one of doors. "She's in here," she said.

"Not coming with me?" he asked in surprise.

Beverly shook her head. "No. You two will want to talk about your mission in private – and we can talk later. I believe I owe you a long overdue dinner," she added.

"I'm looking forward to it," he said, smiling at her - then opened the door.

The lab had been converted to an impromptu hospital, and one of the tables turned into an improvised bed where the sole occupant lay resting.

Resting – but not sleeping. Hearing his approach, she opened her eyes and gave him a wan smile.

"Jean-Luc," she said wearily.

"Beardy," he replied.

She managed a weak laugh. "Finally," she chuckled. "You finally called me Beardy – and all I had to do was almost die. I'll remember that the next time we work together," she said.

He smiled back."How are you feeling?"

"Terrible. My foot's on fire and I feel like someone used me for target practice. But your Dr. Crusher said the anti-toxin they created worked," she said – then coughed weakly. "She said I need to rest for a few days, so I guess I'm going to get that vacation on Risa after all," she murmured – then met his eyes. "You did good work," she said, adding, "for a human."

"High praise, given the source," he said.

"The reports..."

"I'll make them," he assured her. "Get some rest."

She nodded, and he turned to leave her.

"Jean-Luc?"

He paused.

"I was sincere – about you joining me. We could take jobs for the Federation, Romulus – even the Klingons... I'd even let you pilot the ship... once in a while," she added with a smile. "We'd be a good team."

He stood, silent and unmoving, silhouetted in the light of the hallway, then returned to her side.

"I appreciate the offer, Beardy, but I am a Starfleet officer - and a starship captain. And that's enough for me," he said.

She studied him for a long moment, then looked at the second figure standing in the hallway, and shook her head. "No," she said softly. "Not quite enough, I think."

Jean-Luc followed her gaze toward the door, where Beverly stood, waiting for him.

"Perhaps not," he said softly. "Perhaps not."

Beardy watched as he turned away, walking toward the figure in the doorway – then, smiling, closed her eyes.

Author's note: If you enjoyed this (and even if you didn't!) please join me and some of your fellow P/C fans and writers at our chat website for chat, story swapping, and general good times. PM me for details.


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